


On the Page of Every Book

by wede_fic (frahulettaes)



Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-05-08
Updated: 2010-05-08
Packaged: 2021-03-03 04:28:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,244
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24079018
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/frahulettaes/pseuds/wede_fic
Summary: On the page of every book.J2Jared/Jensen, Surprise JDMPG-NC-17For lj user chash for her boring trainride home. Her prompt was: The J's as flirty awkward coworkers at a bookstore.
Relationships: Jensen Ackles/Jared Padalecki
Comments: 2
Kudos: 21





	1. Chapter 1

*~*

Jensen doesn't notice the new guy for three days. He'd been moving American History to the old Post Cold War Section, re-alphabetizing all of history and making shelves for employee recommendations, which, it turns out, are mostly his. So when he emerges from what his co-workers fondly refer to as 'the back forty', it's to a new face behind the register and the certainty that god, if she's there, hates him.

The new guy? Gorgeous. With a capital G. 

He's dirty and rumpled and his nose is running from the dust. He makes a faint for the bathroom, just manages to catch the new guy's eye in the process and looses all hope right there of cleaning up and blowing his nose before making any sort of first impression. 

He spends ten minutes in the bathroom.

By then, he feels awkward leaving cause, ten minutes in the bathroom? Only perverts and his dad spend that much time on the toilet and now any chance he has of making a good impression on the new guy are shot to hell. On top of that, his allergy meds are in his back pack which, sadly, is NOT in the bathroom. 

When he finally cracks the door, there's no one in sight and he feels a ripple of relief. He goes straight for the break area and his back pack, head down, brushing the dirt from his jeans and runs into someone so hard he falls back on his ass, legs splayed, glasses jarred crookedly on his nose. 

He's already apologizing as he looks up and up and new guy is bending down, hand extended and he's struck by how, under the right circumstances, this would make an awesome satire of Michaelangelo's God Reaching out to Man, just as their fingers touch. 

"God, I'm sorry, I," he mumbles. 

He rights his glasses as he takes new guy's hand and lets himself be levered to the upright position.

"No, it's me, I wasn't looking," mumbles new guy. 

He quickly drops Jensen's hand and Jensen wonders if he looks like a plague victim or maybe new guy's just not a toucher. Not that Jensen's not okay with that. He has space issues himself. It's part of why he works here. 

"Um, Jensen." he says.

"No, Jared." says new guy.

Jensen stares. He tries to make sense of the exchange and it hits him about five seconds too late.

They both talk at the same time.

"No, I'm Jensen." he says, just as new guy's saying,

"I'm Jared."

They laugh. Nervously. 

A moment later Jared puts his hand out and says, "Nice to meet you Jensen." 

"Yeah." says Jensen, and shakes his hand. 

He wonders if this is what love feels like.

*~*

They have cubbies in the break area. A wall of shelves broken into squares that are around two feet by two feet across. In front of them is a long, ratty, yellow, sixties era sofa and an unfortunate coffee table from the seventies, dark brown with huge turned legs, way too big to ever be fashionable and glass the color of urine with the texture of huge used bubble wrap. 

Each cubby is painted a different color. Jeff encourages the employees to paint their own and there's a box filled with jars of house paint under the sink in the corner for just that purpose. Jeff, is a hippie. 

Jared's cubby is pink and purple with goddess's holding cowery shells and flowers shaped like vulva's that Maggie painted before going to Vassar. At first Jensen thinks Jared didn't repaint cause he was new and didn't know that he could, but it's been three weeks now and it's still pink/purple so he figures maybe Jared likes it. 

That, Jared's shirt collection and the fact that he volunteered to manage the LGBT section, were enough to convince Jensen that Jared was, at the very least, bi, if not outright gay. 

It takes Jensen a week to properly process this information.

Maybe, he thinks, god doesn't hate him as much as he thought.

*~*

Jensen thinks seeing Jared would be a lot easier if they had similar shifts. Regrettably, they don't. Jared's shifts are evenings and Saturdays. Jensen's are daytimes Monday through Friday, so they cross only at times when Jared comes in early.

This makes conversation difficult. 

So Jensen starts leaving books in Jared's cubby. 

He doesn't put notes or his name or number in them. He just tucks them between the grey box that holds Jared's apron and name tag and the small forest of water bottles, all at varying levels of fullness. 

He leaves the first one on Friday before he goes for the weekend. 

*~*

When he comes in on Monday, the book's not there and breathes a sigh of relief. 

*~*

Wednesday, he's getting ready to leave, looking forward to Wo Hop's Pan Fried Noodles and the latest episode of Fringe. He pulls at his back pack and a book falls to the sofa, face up. 

He looks at the title and feels the tops of his ears burn. 

It's so on.

*~*

Friday a week later, he's surprised to see Jared busily unpacked boxes when he arrives. He hurries past with a quick smile and tries not to run to the break room. In his cubby, there's a brightly colored square, florid pink with boxes of yellow and lime green. He looks at the title of the book and feels his pants get tight. 

*~*

Apparently, Jared changed shifts with Carrie, so he gets off the same time as Jensen, around two thirty, which means there's no chance for him to escape without seeing Jared.

He's also been damned busy ordering text books for the new PoliSci section, so there's been no chance to leave a retaliation book either.

This makes him jumpy and anxious. More so than usual so he's not really paying attention when he gets to the break room and finds Jared tying his shoes on the sofa. 

"Hi." he manages, stilted and not a little off kilter.

"Hey." Jared beams at him all dimples and sweet smile. 

Jensen's heart thumps a little and he feels light headed. He thinks stupidly that he'd love to just crawl into that smile and live there. It's an easy smile, and Jensen thinks that's what he really loves about Jared, that he's easy. Not 'slutty', though that would totally be fine with Jensen. Just, easy like, never have to worry about what he has to say or do. Easy like sweet tea and bar-b-que. Easy like summer. 

He thinks maybe some of that didn't just happen in his head cause there's Jared getting right up close, getting in his precious space, taking his glasses off his nose and folding them carefully, tucking them in Jensen's pocket before kissing the living daylights out of him. 

And if he didn't totally love Jared before, that right there would have done it. 

*~*

They eat Wo Hop's Pan Fried Noodles for dinner and don't make it all the way through Fringe. 

Jensen's pretty okay with that.


	2. Rimbaud's Books

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Redamancy: Noun. the act of loving in return 
> 
> Jared/Jensen, JDM/Christian Kane   
> NC-17   
> Notes: This grew out of a little snippet of a story I wrote for longsufferingly.   
> This happened to me before, where a little challenge or prompt nudged me   
> in the direction of a story.   
> Summary: Some background, some foreground, a little coffee and some love. 
> 
> WIP Amnesty

Rimbaud's Books started life as a bank. 

Easterfield Bank and Trust had died with its owner in twenty nine and stood, mouldering, filled with dust and old ledgers, for the next thirty odd years. When C Everett came to town looking to open a book store, he told the estate agents he wanted someplace abandoned, a place he could reclaim, as he'd reclaimed his life.   
Marcus Anders didn't even bother looking through current listings, he'd gone to the brass key locker, grabbed the worn leather fob, and ushered C Everett out into the cool autumn air. 

C Everett took one look and that was it. 

Twenty odd years later Rimbaud's was well known in the region for books, for writers and readers and poetry. It was a place that people met. A waystation and touchstone for many and a lifeline for a few. 

Nineteen ninety rolled around, slow and loggy with cold and change. C Everett would sit at his desk and watch the motes drift on the golden afternoon light. He'd begun to think about after. After the books and the friends and the strays that ended up in his life. It was three on the dot, the chimes still ringing on the air when the door opened letting in the chill. 

"Welcome to Rimbaud's." He called out. "Shut the door you're letting in a draught." 

It had been a long, long time since C Everett had fallen in love. He'd _been_ in love with one man for years but not a long long time from that first fall. The man standing in the store's foyer was the kind of guy C Everett would've fallen for all those years ago, and in that moment, he did fall, a little. He was tall and dark, grizzled in a way that made him much older looking than his real years. 

He watched as the man unbuttoned his peacoat, enjoyed the patch of skin above the blue plaid of his shirt and the curl of hair at his nape. Then berated himself for being a shallow bastard and stood up from his desk, took the book from the top of his 'to read' pile and made to return it to the shelf, studiously _not_ looking at Peacoat Guy. 

"Help you find something?" he rumbled and looked over his shoulder. 

Peacoat smiled. 

That was the fall of '96. 

*~* 

C Everett died November twenty second, two thousand and eight. 

The morning had been sparkling, sharp with a fall cold snap that turned the Sugar Maples to flaming drifts of red all up and down Main Street. 

Jeff swung by Nellie's next door for Brioche and coffee, tarried to flirt with the early morning baker, Anders, and then made his way to the big, black door of Rimbaud's. He fumbled the keys our of


	3. On the Care and Feeding of Your Jensen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> On the Care and Feeding of Your Jensen.  
> Sep. 22nd, 2009 10:47 am
> 
> Timestamp for On the Page of Every Book.
> 
> J2  
> PG-13
> 
> For lj user earth_dragon for her prompt on the J2 AU Two Day Free For All

Jared spends Friday nights at Jensen's.

It's closer to work than his and he knows how much ritual means to Jensen. Plus, he gets lucky on a regular basis and that's really fucking fine with him. He wakes slowly the first Saturday morning, rubs his stubbled cheek to Jensen's pillow and thinks about giving him a blowjob. But when he reaches out, he finds only cooling sheets and wrinkled blankets.

"Jensen?" he says, question tilting his sleep slurred voice. "Jensen." he says again when there's no response.

He flips the covers off and turns over, looking for his boxers and blinking sleep from his eyes. The wood floor is cold, not as cold as his tile floors, but chill enough his toes curl and he looks for his socks. Finds one and is on his knees on the floor, looking under the bed for the other when he hears Jensen pad into the bedroom.

"Hey," Jensen says and Jared turns, awkward, head lifted, both knees and one hand on the floor, the other holding up the bed skirt. He drops the fabric and kneels up, sits on his heels so he can really take in the sight of Jensen, rumpled, half dressed, steelrimmed glasses slightly crooked, hair a mess. His cock's hard before he can process with words in his mind how hot his new boyfriend is.

"Hey, you." Jared says, still nursing thoughts of blowjobs.

But Jensen's expression doesn't change. It's blank and sort of sleepy staring and he looks at his watch. Jared quirks an eyebrow and lifts his hand, maybe holding it out, maybe just, he doesn't know.

"Hey, what?" says Jared.

"It's eight twenty." Jensen says, helpless and a little lost. "Coffee." he continues, soft and forelorn.

Jared blinks. And the laughter swells in his chest, swells and lifts and opens him and he laughs big, head back and lighter than air.

"Coffee," he wheezes finally and Jensen's lips tilt a little and he shuffles and swallows and adjusts his glasses.

"I," Jensen starts. Jared wipes the tears from his eyes and finally calms.

"Yeah, okay. Come on, Sugarlips, let's get you some coffee." Jared says, fond and still smiling big as Texas. Jensen blushes right up his throat and on the high ridges of his cheeks. Jared stills for a moment, cock half hard, swallows, and decides blowjobs can wait for coffee.

*~*

Starbucks is halfway between Jensen's and the bookstore, which makes Jared smile. Jensen has ways he likes to do things. Jared thinks maybe Jensen got his apartment for its location based on how efficiently he could get home to coffee to work and back. He thinks maybe he spent a little time triangulating the most efficient coarse on a map and looked for apartments in that parameter.

Beside him, Jensen's shuffle walking, cleaned travel mug in his hands like a chalice. Jared sort of wants to kiss him. This is not a new feeling.

When they get to Starbucks, Jared blinks. There's a quiet group of people, not unlike Jensen, standing around the glass doors, mugs in hand, waiting patiently like acolytes waiting for communion. No one speaks.

*~*

Watching Jensen drink his first cup of coffee re-awakens Jared's blowjob fantasies.

By the time they get home, his cock's a pulsing insistant thing and he steers Jensen carefully to the sofa, unbuckles his pants and slips them off before pushing him gently down.

Jensen's still drinking his coffee when Jared blows him.

He can't tell if Jensen's moans are the coffee or the feel of him sucking and frankly, he doesn't care.


End file.
